O, feathered birds of field and grove!
Sing, each of you, your sweetest song;
To keep my hearts desire, my love,
From thinking long.

O, Sun! with diadems adorn
The dew-wet grass, the dew-wet flowers.
Shake from your blossomed boughs, O, thorn!
Shake snow-white show’rs.

O, Woodbine! spill your scents so sweet
O, Wind! make harps of all the trees;
And when she’s nigh let all compete –
Her heart to please.

O, Dawning’s fair! O sunset skies!
In your magnificence show forth,
To match the glory of her eyes –
Unmatched on earth.

O, Nature! make these paths we rove,
These fields so fair, more lovely yet;
That she may love the scenes I love,
And ne’er forget.

Enshrine these beauties in her heart,
Embalm them in her memory –
So that she’ll never wish to part
From them, from me,